


nothing charges me like the night

by crookedspoon



Series: [std] Two Hundreds [2]
Category: Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Amnesia, Body Hair, Humorous Ending, M/M, POV Jason Todd, Sexual Tension, Waxing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-27 19:48:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16226102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedspoon/pseuds/crookedspoon
Summary: Ric's chest hair is a huge turn-off for Jason. It needs to go.(May or may not be read as sequel toWhat's done is done until you do it again.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PleasantlyCasualStrawberry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PleasantlyCasualStrawberry/gifts).



> For #201 "Pass" at slashthedrabble.
> 
> This is the "Ridiculous" idea I mentioned in the above-linked JayRic fic, although again, the actual content of that idea will be in part two. Excuse me for splitting my stuff up like this, but sometimes the 500-word format is the only thing that gets me writing.

Without taking his eyes – or his lips – off Ric, Jason blindly turns the lock of his safehouse. He barely manages to shut the door as they stumble inside and crash against the nearest wall.

Ric is pushing up against him and Jason loses himself in the feel of his hands on his ass and on his pecs, ignoring the stubble and the taste of alcohol and smoke on his tongue.

But it's hard. He can't ignore the fact that Dick never drank, and if he did, he was a total lightweight. Jason used to carry him home over his shoulder, so he wouldn't run off and do anything stupid. Drunken acrobats need special supervision.

This version of Dick, however, carries a whiskey bottle around like it was the water of life.

Still, Jason drinks in everything that's the same, like Dick's voice, or the shape of his body against his own. He inhales his skin, even if the cologne Ric is wearing makes Jason's nose wrinkle quicker than Dick's unwashed Nightwing suit.

They fumble their way forward, somehow making it a few steps inroads despite not letting go of each other. If Ric is drunk, Jason's drunk on the feel of him.

They hit the light switch on their way to Jason's modest bedroom, and once his eyes adjust to the sudden brightness, Jason stops.

"No," he says. Firmly.

Up until this point, he'd been raring to go, fueled by their banter and their groping, but—

Jason's finger wags in front of the wide-open collar of Ric's hoodie. The fur on his chest is a definite turn-off. Just another reminder that the guy in front of him is not really Dick anymore. While Dick may have been a slob, at least his grooming habits had been impeccable. Once he did manage to get under a shower, anyway.

"You're worried about a little chest hair?"

Only when it's Dick Grayson wearing it, or whoever passes for him these days. "If you see this night progressing beyond this point, we first gotta get rid of that."

"Kinky. But okay..."

When Jason lets go of him, Ric uses the chance to take a look around Jason's pad. The wallpaper is peeling and there are water stains in the upper corners. But it's got electricity off the grid and is sufficient for his needs.

"You live here?" Ric asks, whiskey bottle at his mouth.

"I crash here."

"No permanent home then either, huh?"

It's the closest to a bonding comment Ric's made all evening. Jason supposes it was meant to sound like "look at what a tough guy I am, being homeless and alone." Too bad it's undermined by Ric's woe-is-me tone, as if he blamed all the world's injustices on his TBI.

Perhaps Ric only followed Jason here because he didn't want to pass up the opportunity for a roof over his head tonight. Maybe Jason is just a bonus, not the real reason he's here.

Jason can live with that. For now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, for #205 "Ridiculous" at slashthedrabble, because I'm a ridiculous human being.

"You're serious about this," Ric remarks, lazily leaning against the bathroom door as Jason spreads out his shaving utensils on the sink.

Jason ignores him and continues rummaging in his cabinets.

The moment Ric makes out the label of what Jason's been looking for, he laughs, dirty and low, meant to hurt.

"What kind of a sissy are you?"

Bruce must have punched out the last of Jason's pain receptors, because the words don't have their intended effect. "One who waxes," he says matter-of-factly.

Still, Jason was going to use the trimmers to shorten the hairs a bit before applying the wax, and now decides against it, spiteful creature that he is.

"Need a glass for that?" he asks, more antagonistically than intended, nodding to the bottle in Ric's hand.

Ric looks at the sloshing liquid inside. "Got any ice cubes?"

Jason shows him the kitchen and heats up the wax in the microwave while Ric checks out the fridge. Every _plink_ is like an icepick to Jason's spine.

Ric sprawls into the nearest chair as Jason fills hot water into a bowl. He soaks a towel in it before wringing it out and motioning Ric to strip.

Ric humors him, unzipping his hoodie with a lazy smirk that says, _check out this package._

And Jason does, if only for a moment before he catches himself and slaps the towel onto Ric's chest.

Ric probably hasn't exfoliated since he woke up from his surgery, but at least the heat will open his pores. Makes ripping out hair that much easier.

As Jason stands over him, everything he needs spread out on the table beside them, he glares down at the tufts of hair leading downward from his navel.

"Sure you don't wanna just skip this part and get to the main action?" Ric slides his hands over Jason's thighs to his ass and pulls him into his lap, kisses him, mouth wet with drink, and grinds their hips together.

It's a distraction, but Jason's not gonna budge. If pressed on the issue, he'd say that it might help Ric remember who he used to be, as anything familiar would. (Why did he have to crop his own hair short?)

"Too late for regrets."

He applies the wax and puts a strip over it. Truth is, he just wants to be able to bury his nose in the crook of Ric's neck and pretend. If only for tonight.

"Ready, hot stuff?"

Without bothering to wait for an answer, he rips the strip off. Ric's mouth and his abs tighten.

"Big boy," Jason smirks.

Jason's not gonna lie, torturing the former golden boy makes him gleeful, makes him forget the circumstances.

By the time the used wax strips curl in piles around the chair legs like discarded snake skin, tears are shining on Ric's lashes.

"Who's the sissy now?" Jason pokes Ric's abused skin and delights in the hiss he gets. With a positively devilish grin, he asks, "Ready for the armpits?"

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Holy Ghost" by Bent Knee.
> 
> [tumblr](https://crookedspoonfic.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/crookedteaspoon)


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